


The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by Somniare



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Christmas, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-23
Updated: 2012-04-23
Packaged: 2017-11-04 04:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/pseuds/Somniare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Given the option of subbing for Mr Innocent or hanging the station’s Christmas decorations Robbie chooses Christmas, volunteering James to help him.  No ladder, an empty and dimly lit station and a dodgy shelf bring the dynamic duo some Christmas cheer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Author's Note:**

> I know it’s nowhere near Christmas however this piece practically wrote itself. This idea came to me while watching “The Lorax” (whether it was from the Once-ler or the truffula trees, I have no idea - I can only presume that Dr Seuss has a naughty influence on my subconscious). I don't really want to think about it too much :)
> 
> The title is from the popular Christmas song.
> 
> Beta’d by the wonderful tetsubinatu and Gina.
> 
> Disclaimer: Don’t own them, just playing.

It was either this or stand in for Mr Innocent – again.    
  
“I understand why _you_ would prefer this to the cello recital but what did I do to piss you off this week?”  Hathaway was slouched right down in his chair, pouting like a spoiled child.  “I don’t like Christmas – you know I don’t – and yet you volunteer me for this!”  A wide sweep of his hand took in the half-dozen boxes of office Christmas decorations crowding his and Lewis’s desks.  
  
“Because Innocent said I wasn’t to tackle it by meself and you’re me Sergeant.  A’right?”  
  
Hathaway muttered something that sounded like “no it’s not all-bloody-right, Sir” but Lewis let it go – the lad was quite endearing, if annoying, when he pouted, not that Lewis would tell him that, and he was torn between wanting to hug him or clipping his ear.  
  
“C’mon James, soonest started, soonest finished, then down the pub, my shout.”  
  
Pushing himself up, James rose and grabbed one of the boxes.

 

***

 

When Innocent actually gave Robbie a way out of being her ‘handbag’ he’d leapt at it without thought.  It was only when the boxes had been brought up from storage that he wondered if he _really_ had picked the lesser of two evils.  He had no regrets about pulling James into it though; the lad’s company would make it more bearable even if he did have the hump on.  The station was empty except for the officers on the front desk; not only was it Friday night, the round of Christmas parties and events was in full swing and it seemed everyone else had somewhere else to be.  Everyone except James and Robbie. 

 

***

 

“What key?  Innocent never said anything about a bloody key.”  They were standing outside the Maintenance Storeroom.   
  
“Sir, either you have a key or I break the door.  Or we do without the ladder.”    
  
Lewis scanned James from head-to-foot, an appraisal that made James shiver.  He was grateful for the cost-efficiency measure that had called for “essential lighting only” outside standard office hours – James was sure he was blushing.  
  
“Stretch your arms up.”  
  
“Sir?”  It was almost a squeak and James tried to cover by coughing.  
  
“How far can you reach, lad?” asked Robbie, as he took a few steps back, glancing from James to the ceiling and back.  
  
  
  
James sighed.  “Right, Sir.”  He stretched upwards, looking up at his hands as he did.  The motion caused James’s shirt to come completely untucked revealing a strip of lean, pale midriff.  The breath caught in Robbie’s throat as the half-light captured and defined the lines and shadows of the muscle beneath.  Robbie quickly looked up, relieved to see James was still looking at his hands.    
  
“Right then.”  Robbie started up the corridor, best keep moving, he thought to himself, before you say or do something foolish.  “Chair from the canteen I think, no castors.”  
  
  
  
But James _had_ seen Robbie looking, _had_ seen his reaction, and now wondered.

 

***

 

Finding a chair that didn’t wobble took a few minutes.  They agreed that while it would be quicker if they were both up on chairs, it would be far safer to have one up and one providing support and passing up the decorations.  They flipped to see who would climb up first; James lost.  
  
“Tinsel and streamers first.  Up you get, lad.”  Robbie went to stand in front of James but, realising it would put his face square in his groin, moved behind him, hands hovering to the side of James’s thighs, ready to grab if needed.  
  
  
  
“Sir, I’d feel a bit more comfortable if I knew _where_ your hands were.”  James held his breath as he waited for Lewis’s response.  Warm hands braced on his thighs gave him his answer and caused him to shiver.    
  
“You cold? Want your jacket?”  
  
“Erm, no, Sir, fine, Sir, only get in the way.”  
  
  
  
Robbie was now staring at James’ arse, less than arm’s length from his face.  It wasn’t the first time he’d marvelled at that arse, but this was the first time he could really stare, drinking in those firm, round curves, and God, his legs!  Long, lean, muscular and warm, Robbie never thought he’d have the opportunity to touch.  Just then James leaned a little too far and slipped slightly; Robbie tightened his grip on James’ thighs and stepped a little closer.  
  
As they moved around the office, Robbie’s hands gradually crept higher up James’s legs, eventually resting on his hips, his arse now less than a foot away.  Robbie had the strongest urge to lean in, press his face against James and give that lush arse a nip.  He’d done that to Val once when she was hanging some curtains; she nearly blacked his eye when she’d swung around in fright.  _Hathaway’s a strong lad, strong hands; he could do more damage than simply black an eye._  Watching James’s hands as he hung the decorations, Robbie studied his long, slender fingers, how dextrous they were and started to wonder just what else James could do with those hands, how gentle, or not, he could be.  

 

**

 

Robbie hasn’t thought about anyone, looked at anyone, in this way since Val died, not even Laura.  He’s never thought of himself as anything but straight, but has to be honest and admit that what he feels for the lad is far beyond friendship and has been for some time now.  Yes, common thought is that the governor/bagman relationship is like a marriage in that you see so bloody much of each other, but he and James also chose to spend much of their free time together too.  He knew if he hadn’t ‘volunteered’ him, James would have stayed anyway; where else did he go most Fridays except wherever Robbie was?  And Robbie has recently found himself seeking ways to touch the lad more; putting his hand on James’s shoulder instead of the back of his chair, bumping up close (closer than usual) when sitting or standing side-by-side, always ensuring some part of him touched some part of James, placing his hand over James’s on the mouse (he consciously started doing that after noticing that James found a reason to do the same thing to him several times a week – and he looked forward to it, longed for it).  Christ, he’s even ruffled his hair twice this week which James accepted with unexpected good humour.  Robbie’s done his reading, he knows that sex, actual intercourse, doesn’t _have_ to come into a relationship between two men, that there are other ways to be ... intimate; he had come to understand some time ago that it wasn’t the sex he’d missed in these long years without Val, it was the intimacy.

 

**

 

James had been acutely aware of Lewis’s hands as they crept up his thighs.  He’d fought the urge to look and see how close he was.  He imagined he could feel his breath, warm against his thigh.  All he’d wanted to do was climb down, take hold of Lewis and kiss him senseless.  What he hadn’t wanted was to risk losing him from his life, so he’d tried to stay focussed on the task at hand.   However, with the warmth of Lewis’s hands and the closeness of him, James was semi-hard.  He needed to get on the ground before his legs gave him away.  
  
“About time for you to climb up, Sir?”  
  
  
  
As he climbed onto the chair, Robbie made sure to keep his back to James, hoping his trousers, never as tight as James’s, would mask his erection; he was afraid he’d scare James if the lad saw he was aroused.  James took up his place behind Robbie, resting his hands on the older man’s hips. 

 

**

 

For several months now James had been looking for reasons and situations where he could safely touch Lewis – Robbie.  What he felt for him had becoming overwhelming and James had decided, after much thought as was his way, that, like a volcano, a small release every now and then could prevent a major eruption, or in his case, perhaps small touches could avoid reckless, dismissible, actions.  But tonight, being held by and now holding Robbie, this closeness, just the two of them, was beginning to overwhelm him again and he had no idea how to safely get away.  He spoke as few words as possible, certain his voice would give him away.  As Robbie was in the same dilemma the two men worked in an unfamiliar, uncomfortable silence.

 

***

 

Robbie had braced himself against a shelf, allowing him to stretch a couple of inches further, when it suddenly gave way.  James reflexively grabbed Robbie around the hips, pulling him back on to the chair.  He drew in a sharp breath as his arm pressed against Robbie’s hard cock.  _Oh Dear God!_   His mind raced in circles at the possibilities.  Certain Robbie was safely balanced back on the chair, James removed his arm slowly, sliding gently across Robbie’s groin, his thumb tracing the line and thickness of Robbie’s arousal.  If he was right, then tonight could change everything.  If he was wrong what was the worst Robbie could do?  No, that’s not the question—regulations outline what the worst would be.  The crucial question is what was the worst Robbie _would_ do?  He knew Robbie was a good man, straight, solid and, above all, fair.  He would shoulder his share of the responsibility.  James, barely trusting himself to speak, grabbed some more decorations and climbed on the chair Robbie had vacated.  
  
  
  
Even in the dim light the colour in James’s face was visible and Robbie, his own mind whirling, could see him trembling.  Carefully, wordlessly, Robbie placed himself in front of James and took hold of the his hips; he forced himself to keep his eyes downcast.  As James’s senior officer, it was possibly the closest he could safely get to taking the initiative.  What was the worst James could do if he’s got this wrong – punch him, request a transfer?  Resign?  Robbie didn’t want that; he wanted James to stay with him and it was becoming clearer to him now that perhaps he wasn’t alone in what he felt.  
  
  
  
As he stretched to pin up the plastic holly, James was very aware that Robbie’s face was near his groin and that his hard-on would be unmissable; God had been generous to him in that area.  This time he _could_ feel the warmth of Robbie’s breath through the fabric of his trousers and briefs and was afraid to look down and see just how close Robbie was, what he was doing.  
  
Robbie broke the silence first, his voice rough, as though his throat was parched.   
  
 “That’s enough lad, I’m ready for me first pint.  We can finish tomorrow.”    
  
James thought better than to point out that tomorrow was Saturday; he doubted he could make any coherent sound if he tried, so intense was his need.  As James made to step down, Robbie moved behind him, keeping his hands on those slender hips, guiding him, letting them glide up his sides to his shoulders as James descended.  Robbie stood his ground as James stepped back, pressing himself against Robbie’s erection.  
  
Robbie let his hands drift down James’ arms before he stepped away and towards the boxes.  James stood still, not trusting his legs as the trembling threatened to take over his whole body.  
  
“S’pose we should hang this somewhere in the main corridor, create a bit of fun.”  James picked up the tremor in his voice; few would have, but James knew this man as well as he knew himself.  
  
Robbie was holding the fake mistletoe, his face wistful.  James stared at him in the dim light, at the play of shadows across his eyes and lips, a new softness there.  Taking a deep breath, James forced his voice to steady.    
  
“I know the spot, won’t need the chair.” 

 

***

 

Low enough to be clearly visible, high enough that no one would knock it, James carefully attached the mistletoe to an exit sign.  At full stretch he knew his belly was exposed again and he paused, waiting.  Robbie laid his hands on the bared flesh at James’s waist and James let the shiver run through him.  As he lowered his head he took in Robbie’s face, eyes half-closed, lips parted, neck flushed, he felt the slight trembling of Robbie’s hands, listened to his rapid, shallow breaths.  James took Robbie’s face gently in his hands, lowering his head to capture Robbie’s lips with his own.  Those lips, softer than they looked, parted with a breathy moan, welcoming the gentle caresses of James’s tongue.  Robbie groaned softly as James moved his lips across his jaw and down his neck.  As James reached up to remove Robbie’s tie and open the top buttons of his shirt, Robbie’s hands slipped further under James’s shirt, pushing it upwards, his hands tracing the line of James’s spine, over his ribs, up to his shoulder blades, gently pulling James towards him, drawing him as close as possible.  James was now kissing and nibbling along Robbie’s exposed collarbone, moving down to the hollow at the base of his throat, his tongue moving ceaselessly.  
  
“James.”    
  
It wasn’t much more than a whisper.    
  
“James?”    
  
James paused reluctantly, lifting his eyes to meet Robbie’s gaze.    
  
“My place?”

 

*****

 

They never did get that pint.    
  
Curled up with Robbie the next morning, James decided that perhaps Christmas wouldn’t be so bad this year.


End file.
